I Call Myself A Writer But All I've Ever Written Were Elegies For The Love I Used To Feel For You But

I call myself a writer but all I've ever written were elegies for the love I used to feel for you but died tragically. It died tragically after you left me with open wounds that won't mend; bruised me with words way too abusive, they make me shake uncontrollably even now. And your memory, the face that resembles the moon, it haunts me. It haunts me that I run away from the crowd like I'm losing my mind. The cacophony gets louder and your voice, I hear it over the hubbub swallowing me. You call me like you still own all of me. Oh I confess, you still do my darling, you still do. Though I claim that my love has died a long time ago, it throbs with the heart you occupied.You scarred my skin with your name so I will remember you for eternity. And I will surely remember you. For you gave me so much to remember.

I know you're gone. But my pen just can't stop writing about you. So I write another piece...another cold work of art. For the twenty seventh time, here's to the love I want to shower you with but has to die because you left before I can even offer my heart to you. Now here I am, staring at a blank space that used to be our home.

Oh darling, why does love have to be so cold?

-For all the things that refuse to die,

Katie, 20:00

Let's write something

That doesn't involve guns

And blood

Too much yelling I

Cover my ears with lies

The world is a better place

Always a better place

To die in

They say it's the only

Habitable planet there is

But all I see are graveyards

Stretching far and wide

Like stars plotted

In a chaotic sky

Oh I sigh,

Believing all the lies

Uttered so we can survive

The night

While thunderous bombs

Resound

Here and there

Fallen bodies scattered

Everywhere

Maybe I

I will let you speak

About love to me tonight

It doesn't matter now

If you'll lie

We will die sooner or later

You and I

So let's drink to all the fallen souls

Wrap our hearts with steel

While we profess love

Such a foreign emotion

We can't even fathom

But we say it anyhow

Like it's as nonsense

As the war going on

I will let you sprinkle each word

With sugar

So they'll taste sweet

If I roll them on my tongue

And say them back to you

A response

That could melt glaciers

Perhaps in a different time

But tonight may only be

The chance left for us

So what are you waiting for

Lie to me

Let's stage the greatest farce

In this time of war

We'll be the great pretenders,

You and I,

-Chaotic sky,

Katie, 18th of December 2019

He,

He encompasses all the dreams

That I want to come true

-All the dreams,

Katie, 20:45

Fourth of July, 2019 ❤

I am not writing enough. I call myself a writer but don't stain my notes with words as much as I ought to. And tonight, I sit on my bed and stare blankly at the empty piece of paper lying cold on my coffee table. I write the word "He" and stop; unsure if I am now ready to pour out my thoughts. I let out a sigh. If I let my guards down, there are lots of things I can associate with the word "He".

//

"He"

Is what wakes me up every morning, an alarm clock screaming. The light that bathe me with euphoric thoughts that come rushing in a long queue the moment I stir from slumber.

//

"He"

Is the aroma of coffee that fills my head, reminding me of the last time we're in my favorite coffee shop, listening to songs, trying hard to ignore the rhythm of our hearts and the spark we created when our hands accidentally touched.

//

"He"

Is the good morning texts I get, those innocent messages I refuse to read because I am scared to uncover something beneath; say a gift I am not prepared to unwrap but dying to have.

//

"He"

Is the movies I watch, the songs I hum and listen to, the gentle chuckles that resound in my head, stirring emotions in me that are long dead.

//

"He"

Is what paints a smile on my lips, the reason why I beam in the midst of a curious crowd. It's insane sometimes, but I feel like floating on cloud nine.

//

"He"

Is the thread that ties me to sanity. The only thing that makes sense when all I can see is chaos and the cacophony is just too loud for me to contain.

//

"He"

Is the journey and the destination. The good night texts that pop on the screen of my cellphone the moment I get home.

//

"He"

Is the home and the love I run away from, thinking I may only be dreaming because reality could not possibly be this mirthful .

//

"He"

(In spite of myself) is the arms I wish would welcome me when I am done running at the end of the day.

//

-He,

Katie, 01:30

Go out. Go to places. Seek what you must. We can't just entrust everything to the universe. Sometimes we have to meet destiny halfway.

You have to work for it too,

Katie, 12:30

I stopped coming home

Stopped missing...

The smell of breakfast being made

The early morning chuckles

Talks about the news and the weather

All the coffee stains

Spilled over the dinner table

The sound of footsteps

And loud knocks on the door

Goodnight kisses

The late night conversations

About how the day went

And the warmth that comes after that

Yes, the warmth that comes after that...

I stopped

For the breakfast that used to be made

Eventually became

Cold and empty table

Desperate waiting for hours

For a company

That has died

Though I never know how

Or why

The early morning chuckles

Became yellings

Ceaseless arguments

About everything

And nothing

Until they turned

To small talks

About why things should end

Then became silence

Deafening, sickening silence

I can only endure

Because the words

Are gone

And so does the strength

I saved to say them one last time

The coffee stains

Became the blood

Oozing from wrist cuts

Flesh being slashed

Over and over

Because the pain

Is no longer felt

The heart became numb

The sound of footsteps outside the door

Became hollow echo of hushed sobs

A car driving away

Headed somewhere I cannot follow

And the goodnight kisses

All the shower of wishes

Became chilling winds

Blowing ruthlessly against my skin

The late night conversations died

In the hall

Now I ask myself how my day went

As I tremble

And cry.....

Oh I stopped

I stopped coming home

For the things

That used to make my blood rush

In exhilaration

The surge of emotions

Are no longer there

And the place

I persistently call home

Is now a graveyard

For all the dreams

I wished would come true

But were wiped out

By an unknown cannon

Long ago....

-Empty table,

Katie, 21: 45

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